


Nightmare

by FallstreakFeathers (Arkhelios)



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Choking, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, I needed to know what happened, MC is not named, Other, Self-Indulgent, canon was way too vanilla, gimme the details, mostly just hurt, probably rewriting eventually, yo ho its dec 2020 and this needs a huge rewrite ORL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23153602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkhelios/pseuds/FallstreakFeathers
Summary: In his eyes was a storm of giddy madness.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	Nightmare

The push of a curled horn against your skin and the gentle swish of a tail was the only warning you had before the hands around your waist curled in an iron grip, and he hissed into your ear.  
“Don’t blame me for tricking you. Blame yourself for falling for it.”

In an instant, you were flung against the wall. Pain erupted from your mouth and you tasted iron.

He crouched in front of you, snickering.  
“Seeing a human twisted in pain like this… It’s so much fun, I can hardly contain my laughter!”  
In his eyes was a storm of giddy madness. He dragged a single teal-colored nail up your arm, drawing thick beads of red from the trail.  
You recoiled back and tried to scramble to your feet.  
He watches you for a moment as you struggle to run to the door before he slams himself against you, pinning your front to the wall and locking his hands over your wrists.  
“Do you really believe you can get away?” he growled, “You think anyone’s going to save you from me?”

He laughs again as he pressed harder on your wrist. You can feel bones snapping, and scream.  
Belphegor dropped you and allowed you to slump to the floor, your wrists at odd angles.  
You pleaded with him to stop as tears slipped off your cheeks.  
“Stop?! Why would I do that?”  
Suddenly, his hand is around your throat, cutting off your breath.  
“If you die, Diavolo’s little project is ruined,” he brought you close as he whispered in your ear, “You’re going to be nothing but a broken pile of flesh and bone when Lucifer _finally_ finds you.”

You grappled with his arms as he gradually tightened his grip, tail lashing behind him. Your fighting had no effect on him and you used the last of your air to choke out his name, praying that somehow, some way, perhaps you could impart on him the memories you held of your Belphegor. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?  
“You thought we were _friends_ ?”  
He’d said he was human when you met him. You knew he was lying, and that should’ve been the first of many red flags.  
You’d tried to help him anyway. You tried to help his family. You shouldn’t have interfered.  
This wasn’t the Belphie you knew. He didn’t know you. He didn’t care to.  
“I _hate_ your kind.”

He had nearly crushed your throat when the buzzing of voices below caught his attention. He turned his sight back to you, smiling sweetly. Whoever was downstairs had just given him a much better idea.  
Belphegor loosened his grip on your throat and you gasped, grateful for the intake of air before you, again, kicked against him.  
Your struggling did nothing to stop him, and you quieted, exhausted. He hummed softly.  
“Does it hurt?” He asked you as he carried you down the steps, “To be betrayed like this?”

You had no time to answer before you were aware of the shocked clamoring of familiar voices behind you.  
Mammon. Asmodeus. Leviathan.  
Belphegor was going to kill you in front of his brothers.

You could see the silhouette of a man in the corner of your eye, and a stern, warning tone came from him. You couldn’t make out what was said over the thunderous rushing noise in your head, but the authoritative voice - like someone used to being obeyed - could’ve been no one other than Lucifer.

Belphegor’s smiling laugh never made it to his eyes.

He kept his sight on Lucifer as he held a clawed hand to your hip.  
Then, in one swift movement he raised his hand to lacerate your stomach. You hardly possessed the energy to scream, but your vision reddened with the pain.  
“Weak.” 

He unceremoniously threw your body to the floor where you slid for a moment, leaving a bloody smear on the otherwise immaculate tile.  
You lay there motionless, even after Mammon gripped you.  
You could see him huddled over you as he clutched at your frame in a desperate hug, begging you to stay. He pressed his hands against your wounded stomach, hoping to stanch the bleeding.  
You didn’t like seeing him cry. You wanted to tell him it was alright, that you would be fine, but you couldn’t do so much as move your head.  
Your breath slowed as Mammon’s cries quieted to a dull thrum of noise, indistinguishable from anything else.  
Your eyes clouded and then darkened as the pain finally faded.

* * *

You awoke, trembling and sweaty, in front of the very same demon you’d watched murder you in your dreams not even 30 seconds before. _Belphie_.

You tried to hide your flinch when your wet eyes met his. He tilted his head slightly, concerned and searching for an answer in your own gaze.   
_No_ , you told yourself, _not a dream… a memory._ _  
_ You avoided his stare, keeping your sight concentrated on one of the black spots of the dappled pillow he always carried around. You rubbed at your eyes, hoping to stop the flow of water. 

Belphegor had come to your room for a surprise sleepover. Instead, he’d found you already asleep, eyebrows furrowed and whimpering. It was when you started thrashing, crying for an invisible attacker to stop, that he’d shaken you awake. If only he had done so sooner.

He knew what you had dreamt about, but he wished he didn’t.  
It seemed to him that no matter how much progress the two of you made with each other, how much he worked so you knew that you could trust him - that he would never hurt you again - it always seemed to be undone by the past. By _him_ .  
He wished he could take back the actions of his past self, but he couldn’t.  
He wanted to wipe the memory from your head, but that wasn’t possible either.

Instead, he pulled you close, rubbing small circles on your back and whispering ceaseless apologies as he gently rocked you in an attempt to quiet your thundering heart.

It was too late for any of that.


End file.
